Forest for the Trees
by Calendulam
Summary: Future fic. Santana enters into a curious sort of contest and convinces Blaine to come along for the ride. Kurt remains unconvinced. Or does he?


This is complete crack. That is my only warning. Let me know if I have lost it completely.

I don't own Glee. Obviously.

~0~

**Forest for the Trees**

Why did he pick up so many groceries? He had only meant to get some fresh produce so he and Blaine could have a salad with their dinner, but as he was going through the health food market where they often shopped he kept remembering more and more things that they were out of. As Kurt tries to manoeuvre an armload of paper grocery bags up the stairs to his and Blaine's seventh floor apartment, he is really, really regretting his decision not to go back another day with Blaine in tow.

He somehow manages to unlock the bolt and kick open the door, elbowing his way inside. He drops a bag of produce in the entryway and curses his clumsiness as apples go rolling away into the living area.

"Someone sounds like a herd of elephants," says a voice from the kitchen. Kurt jumps, knocking a tub of frozen yogurt out of a bag – something he hadn't actually needed – and cursing loudly.

"Santana, you scared the hell outta me!" He figures if Santana is over visiting than Blaine must be home early and is relieved that he'll have some help cleaning up his mess. "Blaine!" he calls into the apartment.

"Oh, loverboy's not here. I used my spare key," Santana informs him, picking up an apple that has come to rest against her bare foot and taking a huge bite.

"The spare key that is meant to be used for emergency purposes, you mean?"

"It was an emergency," Santana says around her bite of apple. She swallows it and grins. "I came here with a very interesting proposal for you."

"Oh god." Kurt sets down the bags in his arms and picks up the one that he dropped, pushing the fallen produce forward out of the way of the door so he can shut it behind him. "I don't think I want to know."

"Of course you do," she argues. She gathers an armful of the wayward apples and carries them into the kitchen, Kurt following behind with the rest of the groceries. He places them carefully on the counter and turns to find her arranging the apples artfully in amongst the other occupants of the fruit bowl. "Some friends and I are putting together a sort-of contest and I wanted to invite you to join."

"What sort of a contest?" Kurt asks, head half inside the freezer.

"A bush growing contest."

"I'm sorry, what?" He stops reorganizing the contents of the freezer and turns to look at her. "You're growing plants?"

"No, Victor Victorian, we're growing pubes. Big, long, curly, bushy. 70s pornstar style. No waxing. No shaving. No trimming. Who's ever got the best bush at the end wins."

Kurt stands staring at her for a long moment, frozen yogurt rapidly melting in his hand before he comes to his senses and places it in the freezer. "I don't even know what to say right now. And that is a rare event for me."

"Just because you haven't got a cootch doesn't mean you can't play. The only rules are: No Grooming and All Homo."

Kurt widens his eyes and just watches her – standing barefoot in his kitchen and eating her apple like what had just come out of her mouth wasn't the most ridiculous thing to have ever been suggested. "No straight people? That seems sort of unfair." And why does he even care? Why is he encouraging this exchange instead of quickly changing the subject and ushering her out of the apartment before Blaine gets home and she invites herself to stay for dinner.

Santana shrugs her shoulders and licks apple juice off her lips. "Straight girls are fine. But not guys. We decided we don't want them getting all hot and bothered looking at our cootches. Well, Susan decided. I couldn't give a fuck."

"Please stop using that word," Kurt says with a shudder that makes her grin wickedly. He knows he should be changing the subject, but he can't help but wonder. She has a way of piquing one's interest in her twisted little way. "Have any guys actually agreed to this?"

"Nah. Pretty sure they're too afraid I'll make fun of their junk. But you and Blainers are cool – I've already seen you both in the buck and neither one of you have _anything_ to be ashamed of."

"Er... thanks?" Kurt says, red-faced, and goes to unpack another bag.

"So, you in then?"

"Definitely not. And I would like to state for the record that you are truly disturbed."

"I figured you'd say that. You take your manscaping way too seriously. Blaine isn't going to care if you've got Sherwood Forest down there, Robin Hood. He's still going to go to town on your Little John."

"That's quite alright. He can go to town without a mass of gnarly hair trees clogging up the streets. And why am I carrying on with your ridiculous mixed metaphors?"

"It's your loss, dandy. I'll totally convince Blainers to play along. He always does."

"No you won't. Not unless he wants to go without sex for the next... How long are you doing this for?"

"Two months."

Kurt shudders. "Revolting."

"What have you got against body hair, anyway?"

"Nothing. I just like things to be... orderly."

~0~

Santana and her newest girlfriend push Blaine through the apartment door as soon as Kurt opens it. He stumbles into Kurt's arms and grins up at him.

"Hellloooo baaaaby," he slurs.

"Oh, honey," Kurt says fondly and pets his unkempt curls.

"Have a good night, boys," the girls sing-song in unison, Santana grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door closed. Kurt can hear the pair of them stumbling down the hall, giggling as they go.

He shakes his head and looks back down into Blaine's wide, glassy eyes. "Did you have a fun night, Blaine?"

"Yep, I did. But it's gonna be even better now I'm with you." Blaine smiles widely and flutters his ridiculously long eyelashes.

"Are you flirting with me?" Kurt asks, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Most assuredly," Blaine says and beams because he managed it without slurring at all.

Kurt allows himself to laugh now and Blaine steps back and watches him with a grin. "Anyway," Kurt says, "I'm glad you had fun tonight, because by the look and smell of you, you're not going to have a very fun day tomorrow."

"I'll be fine," Blaine reassures, shaking his head and waving a lazy hand dangerously close to Kurt's face.

He ducks away and catches Blaine by the wrist. "Let's get you inside, okay?"

Kurt stumbles into the wall by their bedroom doorway, the weight of Blaine's body tipping him off balance. Blaine uses it to his advantage and presses himself in close, nosing at Kurt's throat. "I've been drinking Harvey Wallbangers all night," he mumbles into Kurt's warm skin. "Santana said maybe when I got home if I was lucky you'd give me a good, hard wall-banging." He nips at Kurt's throat and Kurt tries to hold in a moan. He can tell Blaine heard it anyway, if the grin he can feel against his neck is anything to go by. "Please," Blaine whines quietly, his hands beginning to wander along with his hot, wet mouth. "We've been so busy." He slides a hand under the waistband of Kurt's pyjama pants and down over his bare hip. "It's been a whole week since you fucked me._ I need it_."

"_Jesus_," Kurt gasps as Blaine's hand curls around his hip and his fingers search forward, just barely brushing his hardening cock. Because, God, it _has_ been a week. A whole week with nothing but a quick handjob in the shower before heading out in the morning and he just misses Blaine so much. But no. It's wrong. He told himself years ago that he would never do this when Blaine was intoxicated. Except that time when they were in Boston visiting Tina. But they had both been drunk so that one didn't count.

Kurt reaches down and lays a hand over Blaine's, pulling it gently away from his cock. "How about I get you a glass of water and tuck us in bed and give you a good, hard cuddling instead."

Blaine lets his head fall against the wall. Kurt cringes at the loud bang and pulls him up, rubbing at his forehead. "Kuuurrrt," Blaine whines, eyes wide and pleading.

"I know, Blaine," he says, leading him into their shared bedroom. He leans Blaine up against the bed and begins removing his clothes. "Sweetie, you know I love you and want you, but not like this. Not when you're drunk."

Blaine groans and rubs at his forehead where he'd smacked it against the wall. "I remember," he says. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Kurt tells him and kisses the tender spot that was already beginning to bruise. "Let's get to bed."

Blaine is like an octopus in bed, and it's as if he's got even _more_ than eight limbs when he's drunk. Kurt tries to arrange himself under Blaine's dead weight without jiggling him too much. Just when he thinks Blaine has finally passed out, he moves once again, pressing his face into Kurt's chest and twining their legs together. "You know," he mumbles into Kurt's t-shirt, "being at a lesbian bar, I would never have expected to have my ass grabbed quite so many times."

"Well," Kurt answers with a giggle, "you have got a spectacular ass."

"I love you, too," Blaine slurs, and then he is out like a light, snuffling softly and drooling. And Kurt doesn't even care.

~0~

After Blaine gets out of the shower the next morning he doesn't even have the energy to get dressed. He dries himself off halfheartedly and lets his towel drop to the floor. The only thing he can be bothered with is brushing his teeth because his mouth is a revolting blend of the curry he'd eaten the night before and something dead.

Kurt wanders in after he begins brushing and rubs a soothing hand over Blaine's back before turning away to rummage through the medicine cabinet. He plucks out a bottle and dumps a couple of pills into his palm. He is about to place them on the counter next to Blaine when he hesitates and meets Blaine's eyes in the mirror.

"Blaine, what in the name of Grilled Cheesus is going on down there?" He motions, well, _down there _and Blaine shifts his eyes away from Kurt's in the mirror.

"S'forsantana'sbushgrowingcontest." It comes out garbled, Blaine's mouth full of toothbrush and toothpaste. He's pretty sure Kurt understood him anyway.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Blaine takes the toothbrush out of his mouth and spits in the sink before meeting Kurt's eyes once more. "It's for Santana's bush growing contest."

Kurt smacks the pills down on the counter next to Blaine's elbow and rubs a hand over his forehead. "Jesus, Blaine."

"Look, I know unruly hair is a bit of a turn-off for you, but –"

"Ugh, you know how I can't –"

"Wait! Kurt!"

"You always get pulled into all of her ridiculous schemes without even thinking. It's like the time with the mimes and knee socks and glitter all over again and I'm still having nightmares about that."

"But, Kurt –"

"I know that you have some weird bond with Santana, and I respect that, even if I don't understand it, but Blaine, seriously. It's just so _childish_."

Blaine interrupts Kurt's tirade. "TheprizeisatriptoParis," he says, all in one breath before Kurt can interrupt him once again.

Kurt's eyes widen comically and he snaps his mouth closed. "What?"

Blaine grins. He knew that would get Kurt's attention. "The prize is a trip to Paris. Santana's new girlfriend, Susan, owns a travel agency."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep." Blaine bounces a bit in his excitement, only to be reminded that he drank like a fish the night before and has never been able to handle the effects of alcohol all that well. He winces and leans against the counter. Kurt hands him the pills he'd retrieved from the medicine cabinet and fills a cup with water. "And you know I can win. You know how unruly my hair gets. It's in the bag, so to speak."

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine's bad pun. "God, don't remind me. It'll be like that time we went camping only so much worse. Two months worse."

"But _Paris_."

"Fine. Do whatever you want. It's your body after all." Kurt looks away with a sniff and Blaine has to hold in a grin.

He snuggles up behind Kurt and kisses the side of his neck. "It's yours too. I gave it to you years ago."

"Well, forgive me for trying to keep it in an immaculate state."

"Immaculate, huh?" Blaine feels Kurt shrug as he smiles against his neck. "So, will you still do sexy things with me?" Blaine asks, trying to catch Kurt's eye in the mirror. Kurt is still looking away, trying to appear unimpressed with the situation when Blaine knows damn well that he would do far worse things than forgo manscaping for a free trip to Paris.

"Maybe," Kurt says, picking at the loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. Blaine pokes him playfully in the side and he finally looks up. Blaine gives him an exaggerated pout.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Fine, yes. It's not like I could actually go two months without... _you_."

Blaine grins and pulls Kurt around to face him. "Kiss me."

"No," Kurt protests. "I haven't brushed my teeth yet."

"I don't care," Blaine informs him and puckers his lips. "I'm minty enough for the both of us."

~0~

**From: Satan Sent at 11:33 pm**

_I get your freakout about B growing out his body hair after seeing him in his natural state. Totally listing him under Chewbacca in my contact info. Have fun in Paris._

And if Kurt fist pumps and dances around the apartment, well, it doesn't count if there is no one to see him.


End file.
